November 5th, 2007

Disturbing mental processes

This morning, whilst getting ready for work, I followed a train of thought that cannot be produced here (not because I cannot remember; because it was too stupid) and arrived at an unexpected station: the reason that the 1980s cosmetic kit brand was bizarrely called Caboodles is because it is a kit and the name is reference the other half of the idiomatic expression, “the whole kit and caboodle,” which as far as I can tell, actually means nothing. I wish to emphasize that I was not *trying* to figure this out, I just somehow did. And while I am obviously concerned about the trivia my mind sees fit to pursue, it is also obvious that I find this information at least somewhat interesting, as I am after all reproducing it here for your dubious benefit.

Now that I have utterly discredited myself, I would like to recommend that you see the film Michael Clayton if you are at all interested in watching a slow legal procedural with a) no romance, b) no buddy banter, c) very little action (a car does blow up [twice]). I am not certain why I liked this movie, it is not my bag at all, but I really did think it was sharp and interesting and, above all, well-written.

Also long past the point that everyone else noticed, I have finally seen a movie with George Clooney that I could understand (*Oh Brother Where Art Though?* remains utterly inpenetrable to me) and realize that he is both talented and attractive. Who, when he was Jo’s concert pianist boyfriend Rick on the *The Facts of Life*, would have guessed? Even better was Tilda Swinton–in a movie full of (nuanced, interesting) archetypes, she played a character I have never seen before, and I think she did it brilliantly.

The plot (in the narrative and diabolical senses) concerns a bad pesticide and the lawsuit of the people it harmed, but this isn’t *Erin Brokovich*, thank goodness, and there are larger issues at play than “bad corporations are bad!”

I just love the way a good movie makes me feel–like the world has more pockets and reaches than I knew about before.

We’re coming off of the sidelines
RR

October 16th, 2007

Minor things going wrong

Yesterday I got chocolate pudding on my desk dictionary, which is embarrassing because not everyone who sits in my section has one, so mine is often borrowed and I do not want to get the reputation as one who cannot keep her afternoon snack on the spoon. This was the only major hitch yesterday; otherwise it was a productive and pleasant day. Which causes me to wonder why I spent most of last night dreaming about the apocolypse… Surely the pudding spill couldn’t cause an anxiety dream by itself…perhaps I should examine my subconscious a bit more closely.

I do not dream often of the end of the world, but it does seem to recur more frequently in my dreamworld than, say, taking exams unprepared or in the nude or what have you. Though I was deeply upset by my dream when I awoke, I have to admit that this one, when examined in the cold light of day, bore more than a passing ressemblance to the very-good film, Last Night. I loved that movie, but it is both sad and lame that my subconscious is too lazy to come up with original material with which to terrorize me.

*Last Night* stars the very funny Don Mckellar whose twisted world on the tv show Twitch City so coloured my impressions of what it would be like to live in big bad Toronto. When I moved here a few years later, I found that while his vision is accurate re: a certain variant of Toronto life, it doesn’t *have* to be that way. I guess it helps that I have no roommate, or cat.

Well, maybe I’ll give up pudding once my brace-free lifestyle allows for more crunchy snacking options. Really, though, a fair number of those are open to me now, but I’ve gotten sort of addicted to mush. And blogging. There are worse addictions to have, really.

In your endless summer night / I’ll be on your other side
RR

October 9th, 2007

Gratitude

Thanksgiving is always a good time to be thankful for various sorts of food, and various forms of family, and believe me, I adore both, and spent a weekend rife with them. I also spent a lot of time absorbing bits of culture, which I have time right now only to ennumerate but not describe. Will it suffice to say that everything below is very very good?

When I Was Young and in My Primeby Alayna Munce — lyric novel

30 Rock — tv show

Across the Universe — film

Those are all worth experiencing, as are the other highlights of my weekend, but M and L’s house, my mother’s apple pie, and the experience of applying black lipstick in a housewares store while T holds up a pot lid to reflect your face, are sadly not linkable.

These are days you’ll remember
RR

September 14th, 2007

The Recommender

I’ve mentioned, here and elsewhere, that I’m not much of a reviewer. I like lotsa stuff, and I always want to share, but I often run out of convincing reasons other than, “I like it, it’s really good…you’ll like it too!” which as you may note, is not a reason to do anything!

However, recommendations are fun, because occasionally I know about good stuff you might like. Like melon yoghurt (yes, I am totally over my aversions to melon-y things! Melonyness is lovely, actually). And more:

The film Amal, which I saw last night at the film festival. It was a slow, sleepy little film. Even the melodrama was whispery. But I loved it. And despite weird pacing, with several key tensions being resolved well before the climax, I was on the edge of my seat until the credits. And yes, it did resolve the way I wanted it to.

The restaurant Yummy Bar-B-Q, which is apparently the last restaurant in the universe with no website, but is located on the west side of Yonge just south of Wellesley, and the the south side of Bloor just east of Bathurst, and possibly other places as well, and is fabulous. Seriously, the sheer variety of different items on your plate no matter what you order is joyful, and all of it (besides the mystifying ice-cream scoop of macaroni salad next to the rice) is excellent. Get the chicken spicy unless you have a violent aversion to spicy foods–it’s the best one, and non-searing. And the kimchee isn’t that spicy either, but it’s damn good.

Dubliners by James Joyce. I know, this is not a new recommendation to most people, but well, I’m coming to the book for the first time (mainly) at the age of 29, so it is possible that some of you need that extra nudge, as well… Everyone knows it is a “classic” (whatever that means) but did you know it is really great for reading on the TTC? The stories are short enough to read in a commute, and straightforward and brilliantly (often grimly) clear enough that even with the distractions of fellow riders, traffic and trying not to fall over, you can keep it all straight. Plus the characters often see or ride trams and streetcars–it’s like being in the story! A hundred years later, though.

These are the things I’m endorsing today. Maybe next week, I’ll find a political candiate or something.

C’mon baby / let me know

August 2nd, 2007

Dispatches from Department of Dumb Ideas

#1–I have installed a hit-count-thingy on this site. My bro thought it would be interesting, but I said, “Nah, I have four readers and I know who they are.” (Hey, guys!) He said, “Maybe people you don’t know read it, too.” And he was right! Or, at least, either that or you four are strangely mobile! Anyway, now I can check on that and see how I’m doing, hit-wise, whenever I feel like wasting time. Not a good temptation to have. But hello, strange new readers, whoever you are. I like you already.
#2–A small child yelled angrily at me in a foreign language from her stroller. A library patron was rude on the phone. I am upset about both these incidents. Clearly I am being silly and thin-skinned, yet I am sad.
#3–I threw a rubber chicken at one of my students because he wasn’t paying attention.
#4–I put chunks of watermelon in a ziploc instead of a tupperware because it would take less space in my bag that way. Now, of course, it is a big sticky smushy mess. Of *course* I’m going to eat it anyway!

Well, there you have it. The day can only improve, though, with a swim, some writing workshoppery, hwae dop bop and *The Simpsons* movie all afoot for later. Yes, yes, Simpsons. I maintain that this is not part of my streak of bad ideas. The trailers are funny, anyway.

He is surrounded by sound
RR

July 9th, 2007

The Work

Sometimes, when I’m plotting a new entry on why hwae dop bop is both delicious and hilarious, or how the humidity is driving me to watch a lot of questionable movies, I remember that this blog is supposed to be a “professional” writer’s blog. Ahahaha, I say to myself, but then I try to think of something writerly to say.

One thing I’ve been thinking about recently is how a story can be revised and revised and revised again, until not one word nor the structure nor even the events of the plot are similar to what was contained in the first draft, and yet it’s still the same story. According to my files, the thing I am revising now is on version five. The themes and motifs (incorrect plural form, as to distinguish from “motives”) have changed, and minor characters have disappeared and reappeared. Whole subplots that were only implied are now stated right out (I *hate* stating things straight out) and lots of background has altered substantially. Still, what I was trying to say in the first draft and I am still trying to say. The only reason I’m changing the story is that that first draft befuddled everyone to the extent that they didn’t know I was trying to say that. Actually, that was the problem with versions 2, 3, and 4, too. But 5 is going to be the winner.

I’m not only ranting on about *this* story, though it is much in my mind. More generally, I’m startled by how many different ways there are to approach not only the same materials/ideas but the same events. It’s like when you ask advice on how to get to a certain place. There’s always a couple different buses you could take, or go by subway, and if you’re driving, a huge knot of arguments about surface routes vs. highways, and which highway, etc. etc.

This analogy comforts me, because while you might save five minutes on one bus over another, you always get there eventually. I think that probably there is no One True Way to tell this story I’m trying to tell. There’s any number of fairly expedient versions of the thing, I just have to find one of them and execute it. No magic, no Ur-story, just a serviceable vehicle and gas for the long haul.

The very long haul. I’ve been working on this story since October and hope very much to be done soon. I guess this is why they call it the writer’s craft, not the writer’s lightning bolt. Sigh. Nevertheless, tonight I will go eat some hwae dop bop and watch *Live Free or Die Hard,* a story that I believe has been told in a number of different ways before now.

Don’t wanna end up a cartoon in a cartoon graveyard
RR